All A Little Broken Here
by KayLyn666
Summary: Jo-Anna Stevenson, a patient at Central State Hospital, suffers from suicidal tendencies, vivid delusions, and violent outbursts. When Ponyboy is admitted and tells her that he hears the voices too, the two form an unlikely friendship. Will the two be able to help each other recover, or is their friendship more harm than good?
1. Prologue

**Full Summery: **_Jo-Anna Stevenson, a patient at Central State Hospital, in Norman, OK, suffers from suicidal tendencies, vivid delusions, and violent outbursts. She'd been a resident of Ward C, best known for it's violent, yet practically harmless patients for just over a year when Ponyboy Curtis is admitted. When he tells her that he too, hears the voices of those he had lost, the two form an unlikely friendship. Will Ponyboy be able to chase away his own demons, while trying to save Jo from her own, or will the pair suffer for the rest of their lives, forgotten by the world they once knew? Will the pair's common loss bond them together or tear them apart? And when all hope seems lost for one of them, how will the other cope with the fact that they may never see their new friend again? _

_Told in duo perspective, switching between Jo-Anna and Ponyboy. Rating due to violence, language, and a few (minor) smut scenes. _

* * *

_"After great pain a formal feeling comes-__  
The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs;  
The stiff Heart questions-was it He that bore?  
And yesterday-or centuries before?_

_The feet, mechanical, go round_  
_A wooden way_  
_Of ground, or air, or ought,_  
_Regardless grown,_  
_A quartz contentment, like a stone._

_This is the hour of lead_  
_Remembered if outlived,_  
_As freezing persons recollect the snow-_  
_First chill, then stupor, then the letting go."_

_- Emily Dickinson_

* * *

I met him in the hallway, like so many broken, beaten souls. His eyes were rimmed with dark circles, his hair slicked back with grease and dirt. He was skinny, his frame so thin, he looked almost breakable.

I overheard the interns talk about him. Suicidal, hopeless, broken. From what I gathered, he was in for his third suicide attempt. This time, he almost succeeded. His brother's name sounded familiar, but it wasn't until later that I learned why. Sodapop Curtis's kid brother.

I wandered down the whitewashed hall, letting my thin gown flow around my thin frame. The IV that was hooked to my arm dragging noisily behind me.

"Where to, Jo?" the orderly, Michael, asked as I passed him.

"The rec room," I said with a shrug. "I need some sky."

"If you just let people help you, you could have all the sky you want," he said matter-of-factly. His tone annoyed me. I didn't _want_ help. I wanted to go home and get into fights and do drugs. I wanted to fuck my life up as much as I could before I died. But as it was, I was drugged up on happy pills and mild sedatives. "To keep her calm" they explained to my older brother, who was the only person who gave a damn about me.

"Who's the new kid?" I asked, anything to change the subject.

"Ponyboy Curtis," he said with a shrug.

"No kidding?" I laughed. Strange name. "What's he in for?" I asked even though I already knew. We were all here for the same thing. We all wanted to get out. We all wanted to take the easy way out.

"Jo-Anna, you know I can't discuss that with you," Mike said gently. "Here, go smoke, but stay in the rec room, okay?"

"Sure thing, Mike," I nodded happily. Mike always gave me cigarettes. He was the only orderly who liked me.

I wandered into the rec room, the IV hindering my ability to maneuver around the group of boys sprawled out on the floor.

"Oh look, it's our resident head case!" one cackled. Jacob. He was in for beating his girlfriend half the death then trying to down a bottle of pills. He was violent, meaner than anyone I'd ever met. And that's saying a lot since my ol' man threw me through our glass door a few years back.

"She's on her happy drip, she won't even fight back," Harris, an ugly Soc who was in for fighting too much and drinking his troubles away, taunted. His folks thought by putting him away, he'd turn his life around. Naw, that kid got way worse with time.

"Stuff it, Hairy," I growled. He flinched. He hated that nickname.

"Need a light?" Donna, my favorite person asked. Donna was a quiet, soft spoken broad, with wheat blonde hair and sad blue eyes. She was from my neighborhood, a greaser girl like the rest of us. She was in for swallowing a bottle of pills, just like me. We almost went out together, came in the same night and clicked instantly. I knew her from Buck Merril's place. She was often at the same parties I was.

"Thanks Don," I said lightly. She lit the weed for me before leading me past the boys, so we were against the wall, our eyes locked on the little window that offered just a hint of sunlight.

"They're transferring me," she said sadly. Her eyes dimmed even more. "Next week, they're sending me upstate, said they can't do me anymore good here."

"What? They can't do that!" I yelped, my heart racing. Donna was my only friend, the only person who understood the monsters in my head.

"I know, girl, I tried to tell them they ain't got no right, but shoot, they don't care none," she sighed. "You gotta promise me you won't do nothin' stupid though, okay? 'Cause when we get better and they let us see the light of day again, I wanna see your face on the other side of the fence, savvy?"

"Yeah," I nodded, though it was a bold faced lie. She knew good and well that stupid was something I was good at. It was almost every other day they had to pump my stomach or dope me up on sedatives just to stop me from screaming myself hoarse.

"Jo-Anna Stevenson?" a man dressed in white called out. I looked up and followed the sound of his voice, until my eyes landed on the man. He looked about 30, his green eyes glistening under the bright, florescent lights.

"Yes sir?" I answered carelessly.

"Time for your session," he said dully, as if he couldn't care less.

"It's Friday," I reminded him coolly. I had sessions six days a week. Friday was my free day. The only day I could really let the monsters take over and forget about fighting them for a while.

"It's Monday," Donna hissed in my ear. I flinched. I didn't remember time passing at all. I guess my latest round of sedatives took longer to wear off. I sighed and stomped out my butt before pushing my way through the mass of people in the rec room. Normally the boys and girls were kept on separate parts of the ward, but since we were overcrowded, we were all stuck doubling, sometimes tripling up and rooms weren't as split as they were a few months prior.

Dr. Robert O'Ryan led the way down the long hall until we reached what us residents dubbed the Fuzz Chamber. Most of us had been arrested at least once and to be honest, the little white room with a big desk and two chairs felt exactly like being booked down at the station. Only we were to talk about our feelings instead of trying to work our way out of our crime.

The thick file on his desk was all too familiar. My favorite words stuck out like sore thumbs. "Suicidal", "Bipolar", "Depressed", "Delusional". The list went on and on. "Borderline", "High Risk", "Self-Mutilation". "Admitted January 15th, 1965".

I had been in Central State Hospital, in Norman, Oklahoma, almost two and a half hours from my home in Tulsa, for just over a year. The winter chill could be felt throughout the hospital, but here in Ward C, where the suicidal, violent, but less dangerous residents reside, it felt a lot colder. My roommates, Clair and Grace, were practically walking corpses as it was, so they never felt the chill, but I, on the other hand, would curl in the tightest possible ball, hindered by the wire that kept my IV pumping through my veins, the thin sheet tightly wrapped around my thin, weak body. The IV they had me on now made me so sick, that I couldn't even keep water down. But no one seemed to care. "Keep her sane," was their method. Even if it killed me.

"Jo-Anna?" Dr. O'Ryan called softly. I looked up, my eyes meeting his.

"What?"

"Did you hear a word I just said?" he asked gently.

"No," I said truthfully. Better to be honest.

"Are you still hearing your mother's voice?" he tried again.

"No," I lied. Truth be told, I heard her all the time. My mother died when I was a little girl. I didn't start hearing her until after the fire claimed the lives of my twin brother, my youngest sister and beloved dog.

"So the medication is working," he nodded, sounding almost relieved. "What about the man in black? Do you still see him at night?"

I hesitated. I'd swallowed a handful of sleeping pills a month prior thanks to the man in black. He made the pain a lot worse. Made the loss of my family feel that much more hard to handle. It didn't help that a few months ago news that Dallas Winston, one of the few people I trusted, had been shot and killed by the fuzz. No, losing Dally, that killed any hope for me to get out of that godforsaken place.

"Not as often," I whispered. I bit back a scream. A scream that would only result in me being shoved into the quiet room, electric currents shot through my veins. Because god knew we were still outdated here in Ward C.

"How often?" he asked.

"Once a day or so," I lied. I lied like no tomorrow, just so the dose of my juice didn't get changed again.

"Are you still feeling overwhelmed with grief?" he coaxed. "Still feeling hopeless? Like you need the world to end?"

"Stop!" I screamed suddenly, my vision blurring. I ripped the IV from my arm, finally fed up with the petty bullshit. "Stop treating me like one of your golden patients who are going to get better and go home and live happily ever after! You aren't going to fix me!"

"Calm down, Jo, before you spend the night in the quiet room," he said sternly.

"No! Leave me alone!" Suddenly I was tearing out the door, slamming face first into the new kid.

"Move!" I screamed at him. He looked at me with wide, scared eyes, before grabbing my arm and pulling me into the room nearest to us. It was Donna's room. Her roommate, a lanky, silent girl, just stared as the boy closed the door.

"Don't scream," he said in a hushed tone, ushering for me to follow him. My heart was racing in my chest. The voices…god the voices were everywhere. I felt my head begin to cloud as the sedative wore off. The panic was setting in way too quickly.

Even as the boy spoke, I made no sense of his words. The only thing I heard was "I hear them too."

I sank to my knees, my chest aching, my breath coming in rapid, panicked gasps. My stomach heaved, but there was nothing to throw up. I felt as if I was dying all over again. Again and again, the taunts, the cruel, relentless words came slamming down on me.

And there he was. The man in black. His horrible, cynical laugh booming in my ears.

"I hear them too."

* * *

_A/n - This idea came to me a while ago, and I kept forgetting to actually post the prologue! I definitely need reviews on this one to keep it going, because it's a very tricky plot to work with. Some of the facts will be a little outdated and dramatized, to help fit the story better. I'm fully aware that in the 60s conditions at Central State Hospital were improving, but I wanted to give it the 50s vibe, because it fits the story a lot better. Shock Therapy, lobotomies, cruel treatment and overcrowding, all better suit the story-line. _

_Want your idea for a "demon" to come into play? Shoot me a review and I'll see what I can do. _


	2. Chapter 1 - Ponyboy

**Ponyboy**

I don't know why I wanted to help her. I didn't know her. I didn't owe her anything. Yet there I was, my hand on her shoulder as she dry heaved. There I was, sitting beside her, trying to coax her back to reality, like my own brothers did for me so many times.

We were alike, in the sense that we both were fighting demons no one else could see. She was clearly broken, the track lines running up her arms from where the IVs once were. Old scars covered her arms. No doubt she was once on heroin, probably before she was locked in this little place we were all soon calling home.

It took so long to finally get her to calm down, I was sure the girl on the other side of the door would tell the orderlies where to find us. But she didn't. I later learned that she never spoke. She never ratted anyone out either. Shoot, she'd have been a good person to have around if you were gonna off someone.

Finally, the girl with golden hair and dark, dead grey eyes called down. She looked up at me, tears streaming down her cheeks, her entire body shaking violently as she leaned into my arms, whether taking comfort in me being there or just to brace herself against, she never told.

"Thanks, kid," she rasped, her voice trembling. She could have been beautiful, if she wasn't so frail looking. "You're Ponyboy Curtis, right?"

When she asked my name, I felt a shiver go up my spine. How did she know my name?

"Y-yeah," I stammered.

"You're a good kid," she said softly, before pulling herself to her feet. She straightened the gown before leaning heavily against the wall. "Got a smoke?"

I pulled one out of my sock. That was the first thing the orderly recommended. Hide your smokes in your socks. I handed it to her and watched as she pulled a lighter out of her sock, her fingers fumbling with it before lighting the weed. She inhaled deeply, her eyes half closed as she let the smoke invade her lungs.

"Whatcha in for, anyhow?" she asked dryly, her voice still shaking slightly.

"Brothers brought me in," I said with a shrug. "Tried to off myself."

"Sounds like a familiar story," she nodded, looking down at me. "What's your drug of choice?"

"Sleeping pills," I admitted.

"Good shit," she nodded, as if I said the world was painted in rainbows and ponies. "I'd kill for a good rig and some good junk right about now."

So I was right. She was a junkie.

"How long you've been clean?" I asked her.

"Just over a year," she sighed, sinking back to the floor. "Off the junk, anyhow."

"So why'd you start anyway?" I asked, testing the waters.

"Ol' man threw me through a glass door. Got cut up real good, spend a few weeks in a whore house before finding someone to hook me up," she said as if it was no big deal. "Between Tim Shepard and Dallas Winston, I was never without smack and didn't even have'ta really pay for it either."

"You…you knew Dallas?" I asked, my heart skipping a beat. How could she possibly know Dally? Surely she wasn't from Tulsa…I'd have seen her around if she was.

"Yeah," she nodded quickly. "Knew him for most of my life."

"You're from Tulsa?" I asked.

"Born an' raised," she nodded before standing. "C'mon, we don't want the orderlies putting a 911 out on us," she added carelessly as she opened the door. The girl on the bed looked up at us, but didn't say a word.

"Thanks for letting us hang out, Sherry," she called over her shoulder as she breezed out the door, her long hair flowing behind her.

I kept quick at her heels as she led the way down the long hallway, not stopping until she reached the rec room, where one of the orderlies grabbed her arm.

"Mike, lemme go," she growled, yanking free of his grasp.

"Jo-Anna, now, you know I like you and think you're just stubborn, but you can't go running off hiding like that," he said coolly. "It's 24 hours in solitary for that little stunt of yours."

"Aw, c'mon Mike, it wasn't even my fault. Robert started it!" she spat.

"You can't go blaming your outbursts on the doctor, Jo," he said gently, pinning her against the wall. "Besides, you're off your meds."

"So what, I'd like to enjoy dinner for once," she shot back. I was surprised. For such a small girl she could put up a fight. She was wiggling her way out of his arms, until he stuck a needle in her leg. She went limp after that, her eyes clouding over.

"See ya later, Curtis," she said dryly as Mike, the orderly, carried her away.

"Hey new kid," one of the guys who had seen the scene unfold called, waving me over. I groaned inwardly as I made my way over to him. "You know Jojo?" he asked.

"Just met her," I said coolly, hunching my shoulders, the way all the guys in my neighborhood did.

"She's good people. Real tuff too. Don't piss her off, she'll cut ya," he warned.

"Aw man, don't listen to Gary," a tall, lanky girl said. Her wheat blonde hair was tangled. She came over and offered me a smoke. "Jo's got a lot of problems, but she sure as hell ain't a monster. She'll show you the ropes and keep ya under the radar s'long as you do the same for her. I'm Donna, by the way. Saw you two duck into my room a while 'go, did my best to keep the boys off your tail."

"Thanks," I said dryly. I didn't want to make friends here. I didn't belong here…

I ended up back in my room after that. I was bunked with two quiet guys, both around my own age. They didn't say anything as I sat at the single desk, scratching away at the notebook that one of the interns had given me. He had said that the doctor liked us to write down what we were feeling. Said it was part of the recovery process. So I did.

_I hate it here, _I wrote, _I hate Darry for shipping me off here, letting me be dragged away from everything I knew and loved. It's not my fault I'm a mess. Shoot, it's only been a few months since Dally and Johnnycakes…well since…since they died. It's not my fault I broke. Shoot, Steve broke too. He's off shooting up heroin. Bet he's getting his smack from the same guys Jo did. _

_It's only been a month since Soda got drafted. I can't help that losing Soda on top of everyone else pushed me over the edge. Who wouldn't want to die when all the people they care about kept getting ripped away from them? Who wouldn't go insane?_

_Not Darry. That's who wouldn't. No, Darry doesn't care about no one and doesn't show emotion. Darry forgot how to cry a long time ago. I'm sure of it. _

_He hates me, you know. He still hates me. Even after all this time. It was going so good too. Then one stupid mistake and it's all out the window. Why? Why did Darry have to be the one I got stuck with? Why did Soda need to get drafted? Why?_

_I hear them, you know? The voices. Johnny's. Dally's. Mom and Dad's. I hear them beg. I hear them blame me. I hear them crying. It's not fair. None of this…it's just not…_

"Curtis, time for meds," one of the nurses calls from the hall. I look up and see her holding a small cup, a little green pill in her hand. It wasn't until much later that I'd learn that that little green pill was the difference between endless nightmares and a peaceful, endless sleep.

I took the pill without question. I didn't have the energy to fight her request. Eventually I would. Eventually, we all would learn to fight it.

Glory, the room was cold. I curled up in the lower bunk of the bunk beds, the thin sheet wrapped as tight around my body as possible.

Before I drifted off, I prayed to whoever was listening that Soda would come home soon and Darry would come get me.

I hadn't been here a week and I already hated the damn place.


	3. Chapter 2 - Jo-Anna

**Jo-Anna**

Here's the thing about Solitary Confinement. You might think it's a nice little room, with a window and a little cot and somewhere to pee. Well you'd be wrong. It's a dark, dirty little room with a pile of dirty sheets on the floor making up a bed, a small bottle in a corner to pee in and no windows at all. A single, flickering overhead light is the only real light you're offered.

If you're in for a violent outburst, you don't even get a pen and paper. Since I was in for my millionth emotional breakdown, I was left with a pen, my journal, and a thin, clean sheet. Mike looked at me sadly as he lowered me onto the sheets, his eyes showing that maybe, just maybe he did care.

"24 hours, Jo-Anna, then you'll be out. Just don't go doing anything stupid in the meantime," he said softly. I felt the IV being stuck into my arm before I could argue.

"Tell that new kid, Ponyboy, to keep his head up," I murmured as I closed my eyes against the dull headache the sudden rush of sedatives caused.

"He's a good kid, huh?" Mike asked softly. He always spent a little extra time with me when I was sent to solitary. He felt bad about it – he knew it was the doctor's way of breaking us.

"Yeah, he sure is," I nodded. My stomach churned as the meds too effect.

"You're losing more weight, Jo," Mike observed as I rolled onto my side, dry heaving for what felt like the millionth time.

"I know," I said as I spat out the tiny amount of spit that formed in my mouth. "Water, please?"

"You know I can't do that," Mike said sadly. I looked up at him with pleading eyes. Oh, I forgot to mention that. 24 hours, no food, no water, no nothing. Its 24 whole hours of nothingness.

After he left, the hours began to drag. The sedative kept me numb, unable to really move at all. But dehydration and human nature kept me from getting any form of rest. I leaned against the wall, my head fogged by the malnutrition that was starting to slowly kill me.

I doodled from time to time, trying to ease the pain that was slowly taking over my body. My stomach ached, my throat was dry and hoarse. My eyes burned, my head throbbed, my muscles twitched with endless tremors caused by the medication.

By the time 12 hours had passed, I was slipping in and out of a delirious state. The monsters inside my head were wreaking havoc on what little sanity I had left.

By the 18th hour, I was having a conversation with my dead sister.

"Go away," I moaned, my stomach doing flips.

"But Jo, you gotta fight," she said, her childlike tone almost taunting. "You can't give up."

"Go away Lucy," I begged. I looked at her figure with pleading eyes. "You're dead."

"You will be too," she chuckled. "If you don't find the will to fight."

"I'm tired," I tried. My head fell to my hands, hands which were as cold as ice.

"So is everyone else. Mama says to keep fighting," she teased.

"Mama's dead," I whispered.

"So are you."

"No!" I cried out. The room spun around me, causing my stomach to heave. I gasped for air, unable to fill my lungs.

Suddenly the door flew open and strong arms were holding my body still. I felt a wet cloth fall onto my face, causing me to panic even worse. I could faintly make out the sounds of my doctor, the very man who sentenced me to such a cruel, uncanny punishment.

"Her dosage is far too high, Robert!" an unfamiliar voice cried. "What are you trying to do, kill her?"

"She doesn't respond to normal doses," he argued, as if his entire job relied on curing one, unimportant patient.

"Look at her! For crying out loud, Robert, Mike was right! You're killing this poor child!" the voice soon made sense. It was Gloria Stone, the head supervisor. She didn't care about how we were treated, she only cared that we weren't killed. Every one of us who dies makes her looks that much worse.

I jerked in the arms of the person holding me, my body unable to handle the stress the latest round of sedatives had. I felt the world slipping in and out of focus as I finally slipped into a pitiful, unending darkness.

* * *

I woke hours later, a fresh bag of medication hanging above my head, the needle barely staying put in my arm. I was aware that someone was sitting beside me, but at the time, I couldn't remember who he was or why he was there. I later learned that it was my very concerned older brother, John, who held my hand loosely in his as he brushed the hair out of my face.

I couldn't understand the words that were coming out of his mouth, but his tone was concerned. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week. How long was I out? How long had he been there? None of it made any sense to me.

When Dr. O'Ryan stepped into the room, it took everything in my power not to lash out. My body felt as if I had been ran over by a big rig, my throat burned like someone had shoved metal rods down it. None of it was fair. None of it was right, yet there I was, laying in a hospital bed, my big brother at my side, the man who caused all the pain standing over me, trying to explain the situation to a man who could barely understand anything that didn't have to do with cars, broads, or horses.

It took all of three weeks for me to finally regain enough strength to return to Ward C. The first person to welcome me back was Mike. He looked at me with sad eyes as he lightly led the way through the halls. I found myself sitting in the rec room, my eyes locked in the distance as a cigarette hung loosely in my hand. Ponyboy came up beside me, his tone gentle as he gave me a message from Donna.

"Keep fighting, kid, you're gonna get out of here real soon and when you do, you're going to look back and realize that all the pain was worth it," he said she had said. "She's a smart person," he said gently as he took the cigarette from my hand. I looked up at him, not really comprehending what he had just said.

"I'm gonna die here, Ponyboy," I said hoarsely. "They're gonna kill us all."

A look of fear crossed his face, and though I felt horrible for frightening the boy, I couldn't bring myself to comfort him. It was the truth, afterall. That was exactly what was going to happen. It happened every now and then, a screaming girl or a fighting boy would be carted off, never to be seen again. How long would it take before it was one of us? How long before one of us broke, never to return to the ward we long since called home?

I looked past him, the man in black standing in the shadows of the dim, gloomy room. His shook his head almost as if to taunt me for even trying to think on the bright side. Death would be easy, simple, welcomed. No, we would rot here in this ward until hell froze over. Isn't that why Donna and I had tried so hard to die? Because living was worse than death could ever be. Death was silent. It was simple. It was an eternity of nothingness. Living was cruel. Living was full of hatred, pain and sorrow. No, death was good. Death…death was welcomed.

Ponyboy tossed my notebook to me. Apparently my brother had recorded the last three weeks for me. As I flipped through the pages, I learned that I wasn't totally under the whole time. No, I was very much awake.

_She screamed and cried for mom today. All day, she swore up and down that mom was coming home, that mom was just at the store. She's like a little girl again. Scared, broken and alone. It breaks my heart to see her like this._

_Tonight she cried for Ponyboy. I wish I could thank the kid for getting her through that day. If I'm remembering the family correctly, he's the youngest of Darry's brothers. Man, Darry's a good guy. We went to school together, used to throw the ball around when we were kids. Deep down, Jo has to remember that. She has to remember that we knew the Curtis' when we were kids. Shoot, who didn't? Martha and Darrel were practically parents to all us screw ups. _

_Real shame their middle son got drafted. That damned war…_

_Anyway, Jo, I know you're gonna read this, the doc said it might be good for you. Just know I'm rooting for you on the other side, okay? Please be brave, okay? You're gonna get better and you're gonna get outta here and we're going to move on with our lives. Just keep fighting, baby sister, ya hear?_

I blinked back tears as I read his sloppy handwriting again and again. John had always been there for me, through every uphill battle and stupid mistake. He was there the first time I overdosed on heroin. He was there the first time he found me cutting my wrists with a rusted blade. He was there when I came home in tears, only to find the house engulfed in flames, everything we knew and loved burnt to a crisp. He held me tight that night, telling me over and over that it was going to be okay. Like I could believe that. My twin…my better half was gone, as was my baby sister, a sweet, innocent little girl. Oh, and Rusty, our little terrier. He was my best friend and losing him was the final nail in the coffin.

Actually, no. Losing Dally was the final nail. When news of his death reached me, I lost any hope of getting out of that horrible place alive. That same night, the hospital staff was forced to make life altering decisions, thanks to my little decision to swallow a bottle of pills and a shit load of bleach. To this day, I don't remember where either came from.

"You good?" Ponyboy asked softly, his hand falling onto my arm. I jerked away, nodding quickly.

"Yeah."

"It's gonna be okay. You and me, we'll get outta here," he said softly.

"You think?"

"I know."

Somehow, his confidence was what I needed. His pure confidence was enough to give me a little extra strength. Before I had a chance to think, I found myself wrapping my arms around him, pulling him in for the first hug I'd received in over a year. We normally didn't hug, us crazies. We'd slap you a five or give you a knowing look, but we didn't hug. It wasn't our thing. But this kid…he was different. He was special. Maybe he could save us all.

* * *

_A/n - I'd love to know what you guys think so far! I'll be working 6 straight overnights this week, so an update will probably come by the end of the week. I'd love to get a little feedback before then! Let me know how I'm doing, if I'm making things too confusing, ect. All feedback is greatly appreciated! :)_


	4. Chapter 3 - That was Then

**Jo-Anna**

Over the next three weeks, Ponyboy and I spent so much time together, Mike even went on to convince Dr. O'Ryan to see us together most days. The doctor was stunned with the sudden cooperation and turn around to say the least. Every time we had a session together, I would focus my attention on Ponyboy and direct my answers at him, rather than the doctor who wanted the facts more than anyone in the world.

It was during one of those dreaded sessions that the truth came out. The truth he and all the rest of the doctors and nurses have been trying to uncover for the last year. The real reason I tried to end it all on that fateful night, that very night that landed me in that broken dreams filled hospital, where the light of day was rarely seen and no one ever got to go home.

**Ponyboy**

Jo-Anna was talking about her past when she suddenly stopped, her eyes glossing over like they always did when she was in the midst of an attack. I reached across the small space, taking her cold hand in mine as the doctor paused, as if debating on asking her to continue or not. I knew better than the trust the doctor. I'd gotten my first taste of solitary a few days prior and had no intentions of going back.

"It's okay, Jo," I said softly, my fingers drawing small circles across her hand. "Don't let them win."

"They know," she whispered, her eyes wide. "They know everything now."

"Who are they, Jo-Anna?" Dr. O'Ryan asked with faked interest. He made it clear from day one that he had little interest in the monsters we, his patients, were facing. He only wanted to drug us up to the point we didn't know our own names.

"No one," she hissed her eyes locking on something no one else could see. "Just like that…that first night…all those years ago," her voice broke as she closed her eyes slowly, her breathing coming in panicked, broken gasps.

She didn't open her eyes as she told a story I wouldn't know. A story I was too young to really know. Deep down, I remembered Soda talking about the very same day, only he talked about it with pride and spark, whereas Jo, my only friend in this dark, hated place, spoke of it with sorrow and desperation.

**Jo-Anna**

_My twin brother, Anthony, and I were walking our dog down to the lot at the end of the street one night, after dinner like we did every night since we were old enough to be trusted to come back afterwards. Tony was running ahead like always, eager to get the simple chore over and done with. _

_As we neared the lot, the familiar sounds of our neighborhood lingered in the background as parents called their kids in for the night. Our dog, Harley, a scrappy mutt with long, soft fur, tugged at her leash, her teeth bared as growls and low moans came from her lips. _

_Before we had a chance to react, a group of boys much older than us pulled up in a nice car. My first thought was "Oh boy, that car's too tuff to be from our neighborhood."_

_Tony fell back, now walking at my side, as we neared the lot, where the old tennis ball was buried under some of the hubcaps that appeared on a regular basis. I turned to the right, then the left, trying to come up with a good escape route. There wasn't one to be seen._

_Instead, with my brother and our most faithful friend at our side, we turned to face the boys as they hurried near us._

"_Dirty, no good hoods," one spat as he picked up an iron bar. I flinched, his insult still too new for me to have overlooked._

"_Better than a no good, middle class reject," I spat with dignity. _

"_Oh, little grease talks now!" one hooted, his cold blue eyes glistening under the streetlights. _

"_Back off," Tony growled. He wasn't a fighter. He'd rather run. _

"_Not likely," one of the boys said as he ran towards us. I dropped Harley's leash, but she didn't make it far. The boy with the bar hit her over the head and she dropped like a ton of bricks. My heart raced in my chest as I turned to run. But there was nowhere to run. Before I moved even two steps, he had me, his arm pressed painfully against my throat as he hauled me back._

"_Let her go!" a new voice hollered. I looked up to see a boy with golden hair and dark eyes running towards us, four other boys in tow. One was familiar. The big one. Darry Curtis, a friend of Tony and my's older brother, John. The other three, I didn't know. One had a goofy look about him, like he was always joking. The other, the one running beside the golden haired one, had an angry look about him, like he'd been hit too many times to care. The last, a blonde boy with a look of pure hatred, walked briskly, his hands balled into fists. _

_The sad thing was these boys were all young. The oldest, Darry, was barely 13. From the looks of it, the others were 9 or 10. All much younger than our attackers. But what they lacked in age, they made up for in pure unity. _

"_Let them go, you scum!" Darry shouted, coming up beside my brother, his fingers twitching at his side. _

"_No chance," the one holding me snarled, tightening his grip on my throat. I coughed and sputtered, my vision blurring._

_The next thing I knew, I was being thrown across the lot, my head hitting the pavement with a light thud. I groaned and sat up, stunned by the sight before me. The boys, my brother right beside them, were throwing rocks, bottles, anything they could lift, at the group, chasing them back to their car. A moment later, you could hear the tires scream as the car sped away, the boys whooping and hollering with pride. _

_The golden one ran back at me, kneeling at my side, a look of concern on his young face._

"_You okay, kid?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle._

"_Yeah," I nodded, rubbing the back of my head._

"_She hit her head," Darry noted, kneeling beside the other boy. "We should take them back to the house and have mom take a look at her," he suggested. "I'm Darry," he added, giving me a funny look._

"_I know. You're Johnny's friend," I said, referring to my brother, who was sometimes seen throwing the football around with Darry after school._

"_Yeah, and this here is Sodapop, Steve, Keith and Dallas," he introduced. "Can you walk?"_

"_Mhm," I said getting up slowly. I ached all over. _

"_Be careful," the golden one, Sodapop, said softly as he wrapped his arm protectively around my waist. I was taller than he was, but he took no notice._

"_Dad's gonna have a cow," Tony puffed, coming up next to me. "Harley's nose is all cut up, and you look like you've been thrown through a wall."_

"_I'll tell 'im she caught wind of a cat," I shrugged._

"_He won't believe that."_

_And he didn't. That night I was given my first beating. A pattern that would continue until the night I was committed. _

I opened my eyes and found myself staring face to face with the youngest Curtis brother. Ponyboy had tears in his eyes as he reached across the space and pulled me in for a hug.

"I didn't know," he whispered. "None of us did."

"You couldn't," I said softly. "It wasn't anyone's fault."

It didn't matter that it made no sense. That that night didn't mean anything other than the start of the nightmare I called my life. The doctor wrote something down before telling Mike and another orderly to escort us to the cafeteria for dinner. Neither of us said a word as we walked down the cold, white hallway. We were both lost in our own nightmares. As we would be for some time.

**Ponyboy**

It all made sense no. Why she instantly felt safe around me. Why she cared so much. Maybe she didn't realize it yet, maybe she didn't understand that I was Darry and Soda's kid brother. Or maybe she did.

Either way, after what she just said, I knew deep in my heart, that we could get through this together, just like she got through that with my brothers.

Because like it or not, she was one of us too.

* * *

_A/n - Thank you so much for the feedback so far! It makes a huge difference! I love hearing what all of you think! _

_I'm sorry for the lack of updates recently, I've been given the overnight shift at work and spend most of my free time sleeping these days! I promise to keep this story going as long as I receive feedback! _

_This chapter was written quickly, due to my computer eating the original one, but I hope it sheds a little extra light on Jo's past. I'm going to make the next chapter all about Ponyboy, to make up for this one, I promise! _

_As always, let me know what you think! I'd love to hear your suggestions! _


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